


Various Feelz (drabble collection)

by BatchSan



Series: HSWC '13 Fills [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: A lot of them in some cases, Alternate Universe, Angst, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Character Death, Child Abuse, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Feels, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Games, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, Implied Sexual Content, Incest, M/M, Multi, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Rivalry, Romance, Sad Backstories, Tragedy, Unrequited Crush, but not many, different fills have different warnings so don't expect this all in like one drabble, implied rape, not everything is angst-ridden, sorry but I have a thing for angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatchSan/pseuds/BatchSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of various drabble fills I've done for HSWC '13 bonus rounds.</p><p>Pairings in chapter titles to make for easy navigation! =)</p><p>Chapters 1-5 are history AUs. Chapters 6-10 are based on mini-fanmixes. Chapters 11-? are based on board/tabletop games. More stuff in the future. =3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rose♥Kanaya - 1920's AU

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not posting these in any special order, just as I find them as I open up docs on my computer (and once I've caught up, I suppose I'll be posting them as I make the fills). xD Excuse the mess.
> 
> Also, again, check the Chapter Index for pairings and the notes for warnings. =3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 3: History
> 
>  
> 
> _1920s-1930s USA, rise of "talkies" vs silent films_

"Are you certain this is worth the time?" you ask, stepping forward on the line as it moves forward.

"Kanaya dear, have you ever known me to be incorrect in the assessment of a groundbreaking bit of history, or fashion?" Rose replies, brushing a pale hand against an errant blonde curl from her brow.

"Simply because you were correct about the flapper look being a fashion statement that would outlast a season does not mean you're an aficionado on every new fad. Besides it is only a film."

"It's a talking film, love." Rose tuts at you disapprovingly. "One of the first of it's kind. This is a monumental event to be etched into the cinematic textbooks of years to come. Our great-great-great grandchildren will learn about it in a book in school. It's the cat's meow of events to occur in our lifetime."

You bite your lip, falling silent as the line moves steadily forward. It's quite a long line for just a film you can't help but think.

"Rose, you do recall it's not possible for us to have children of our own, correct?"

She smiles softly at you, fingers brushing against yours softly.

"I was speaking hypothetically, dear."

Her voice is so soft that despite the fact that others are around, you lean forward and brush a kiss against her cheek, hoping the action appears more as though you're merely whispering something into her ear.

You both lapse into silence and when the time comes to buy your tickets, Rose places fifty cents onto the counter and you bite your tongue to avoid commenting on how expensive movie tickets have become in recent years. The inside of the cinema is lavish and beautiful though, making it almost worth the price of admission.

'Tell me you're at least a bit thrilled," Rose says with a nudge once you've taken your seats.

"I fail to see how simply talking in a film will make it that much better. Without a decent storyline--"

"Kanaya, you sound like a bluenose. The cinema is a place for entertainment not a place to be a dowager."

She smirks when you scowl at her. "I am not a dowager!" you hiss. "Nor a bluenose."

Her silent smirk only fuels your rage at the accusation but the lights go out and the room falls silent. To avoid making a scene, you turn up your nose and face the screen, watching as the title appears on the screen - _The Jazz Singer_.

It starts as nearly every other film Rose has dragged you to but halfway through Jolson's character speaks up for the first time and the entire room jumps to its feet in amazement, even you. You join the applause because it is literally the most amazing thing you've ever witnessed. When you turn, Rose grabs your face and plants a kiss on your lips while the crowd continues to cheer and applause.

"Perhaps,' you say, when she releases you, "talkie films _are_ a monumental thing."

"That's what I like to hear," Rose says and takes her seat with a pleased smile.


	2. Kanaya♠Meenah - 1975 punk AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 3: History
> 
>  
> 
> _Birth of punk, 1975, America_

Meenah knows how much you hate being disturbed when you're trying to practice one of these new songs she's written. This new style isn't so easy to adapt to either. She thinks she's hot stuff as well just because she practices her singing while standing atop a soapbox, but the joke's going to be on her when you stop playing in the middle of a live performance. 


	3. Equius♦Nepeta - 1800s slave AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 3: History
> 
> _Early 1800s, deep South.Malitis outbreak_

The Master is holed inside his nice cozy home while ya'll simmer away 'neath the hot sun. It's not so bad right now with the fall approaching, but ya'll are hungry and the Master refuses to feed any of ya'll more than a handful of grains and two-day old bread so stale it hurts ya'll teeth.

The worst part is watching the others get thin with hunger. Yo'self is strong, big and broad at the shoulders just the way Master likes his slaves, but not too many of the others are like yo'self. Especially yo' oldest and bestest friend, Nepeta. She's a lean little critter, wily as a cat and able to move like one too. But she's wastin' away 'fore yo' eyes and it hurts. She ain't even kin but yo' love her like she is.

Today she's beginning to look weak, almost sickly kind of weak, and it begins to dawn on you that if yo' ain't up to be doing something about it, Nepeta will get sick and... No, won't even let the demons in with an idea like that. Staring down at the mallet in yo' hands yous was a'bringin' back to the shed for the day, a thought comes and fills you up with both dread and conviction. Yous gonna save Nepeta.

The next morn' when the Master wakes up, one of the farmhands tells him three of his biggest hogs done up and died durin' the night. He's in a right fury, yellin' and hollerin' as he runs to their pen. Master thinks someone kilt them but the hogs look like they laid down for a nap and never got up.

"It's malitis," yous answer when he demands an answer for what happened.

Says he never heard of no malitis, but he moves away some from the dead hogs. Yo' tell him 'bout the plantation you grew up on, where there was an outbreak of it one fall. All the hogs up and died, yous say even though lying makes yo' sweat up a storm and yo' insides ache something awful. But the Master begins to buy it, moving further away from the hogs.

"Maybe yo' get lucky and only some die instead of all."

He orders ya'll to take away the dead hogs and feed them to the rest of the slaves or burn the bodies, it don't matter no which way to him. He looks at the rest of the hogs as though they got some kinda sickness 'fore stormin' back inside his cozy home.

That afternoon and night, Nepeta eats more than her share of hog and even some of yo' too. She's glowing the next morning, happy and still full, and more importantly, safe.

If the Master keeps not feeding ya'll right, more hogs might catch a case of malitis before winter comes. Be a cryin' shame for him.


	4. Dolorosa♥Mindfang - 1662 - Master/slave AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 3: History
> 
>  
> 
> _Virginia 1662_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied past rape (but not by Mindfang though I'm sure it's easy to figure out who).

She lies quietly in her cot, dawn not yet cresting the sky. There's a squirm from the bundle in her arms and she shooshes it, touching small black curls delicately. The baby hiccups once and falls quiet. With a soft hum, the Dolorosa rocks the babe gently.

She tries not to think too much about how the baby's skin is lighter than her own chocolate brown skin, darken further by years toiling away under a hot, unforgiving sun. The Dolorosa worries the baby's eyes will be the same violet color of her former Master, it makes her shudder just to think of the possibility. Hopefully the gray will give way to her same jade colored eyes, if the good God is feeling particularly merciful. The Dolorosa doesn't know if she's strong enough to look into eyes that remind of her former Master with the scars across his face.

Though she would love the child either way, unconditionally.

A knock at the entrance to her shack startles her, makes her jostle the baby enough for it to squirm but remain asleep. The door opens and a figure presses into the small shack, barely large enough for a cot and a small table to eat at. Carefully, the Dolorosa sparks a flame atop the candle at her bedside, filling the room with a dim glow.

"Mistress Mindfang," the Dolorosa breathes, bowing her head quickly and making to get down to the floor to bow properly to her new Master.

A fair hand presses against her shoulder, stopping her. She hesitates uncertainly and allows herself to settle back into her cot, body still tired from childbirth not more than a day ago.

"Is something the matter, Mistress?" she asks, feeling edgy.

"I came to see the child," Mindfang says, lifting her heavy skirts so she can kneel beside the cot.

The action surprises the Dolorosa but she obediently unfurls the blanket from around the baby's head and face. Her body goes cold with fear, having heard stories of Masters that have become appalled by mixed children and killing them on sight, or pretending as though they don't notice their own features on small faces.

"The father," Mindfangs says, swiping a finger against a soft cheek, "who is it?"

The shame burns her face, makes her feel as dirty as she felt all the nights where she had been forced from her shack and made to sleep in her former Master's quarters. Tears prickle her eyes as she speaks.

"My former Master."

"Did you want him to?"

"It doesn't matter what I wanted, Mistress. I'm only a slave."

Mindfang brushes the tip of her finger over small clenched fingers and looks pointedly at the Dolorosa, blue eyes large behind expensive looking eyewear.

"What's the child's name?"

The Dolorosa pauses, not having considered one yet. "Kanaya," she says at last.

"Pretty," Mindfang says fondly. The Dolorosa is unable to decipher whether she means it or not. "You know the law, correct? Even if the child is sired by an Englishman, it still inherits the status of it's mother."

"I honestly never imagined any child of mine would have any other choice."

This earns her a curious look from her Mistress who stands, shifting her skirts back into place.

"I suppose you're correct in that assessment. However, I feel prepared to offer you some... freedoms, of sorts."

The Dolorosa feels an ugly lump in her throat, familiar fear creeping through her limbs.

"Mistress?"

Mindfang touches her cheek now, her fingers burning against the September night.

"I'll allow you into the house, where you may live the rest of your days with your child. She'll have the chance to be educated, that's a pleasant thought, is it not? I'm sure that oaf of a man educated you some. The Lord Almighty knows how much he loves to speak about himself and for others to speak about him, that greasy, ill-composed scut." Mindfang sneers at the thought before letting a pleasant smile cross her lips. "Your child will be able to read and write, I'll personally guarantee it."

By now the Dolorosa has rewrapped the baby and holds her protectively against her bosom. Her Mistress sounds mad to her.

"I've no way to repay you for such a generous offer, Mistress."

Cupping her face, Mindfang shakes her head, a look of quiet contemplation coming over her normally stern features.

"I only ask for your loyalty."

The Dolorosa can see something sad beneath the surface of her Mistress' eyes. She hadn't been on this plantation long, only three months, but the Mistress of the house had taken an unusual interest in her during that time. Word had been that her husband had died quite suddenly in battle somewhere and while she was well known for taking her frustrations out on her slaves, Mistress Mindfang seemed to have an underlying sadness to her. Still, the Dolorosa feared what could happen to her child in such close quarters if her Mistress was having a cross day, as well as herself.

"You can educate yourself as well," Mindfang continues. "Some of your people live freely, own property -- imagine how much easier something like that would be for your child. I expect an answer to my offer by lunchtime. For now, I'll leave you and your daughter to rest."

Her hand falls away, leaving a cold against her skin that surprises the Dolorosa. Blowing out the candle, the Mistress departs in silence, slipping into the shadows of night as though born from them. Shaken by the encounter, the Dolorosa presses her lips to the baby's forehead and closes her eyes, scared of the dark all of a sudden.


	5. Aradia♦Tavros - AU - NYC, 1911

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 3: History
> 
>  
> 
> _Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire; New York City, 1911_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy, gore, and much death ahead.
> 
> Being from NYC, this is one of those stories I know a little too well. =(

The fresh air is sweet in your mouth, though the smell of smoke is still heavy in the air, even outside. Looking up, you can see thick plumes of smoke rolling out of the fifth floor of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory, your now former place of employment.

An uneasy feeling fills your stomach as your eyes sweep over the people pouring from the building's entrance, filling the streets all around with you with crying and thick coughing. It takes a moment before you find your mother in the crowd, standing quietly with an arm around your older sister's shoulders. There's a smudge of soot on Damara's cheek but she stares solemnly along with your mother at the building.

But there's someone missing. Someone important to you.

"Tavros!" you call, hoping he is nearby and able to hear you over the growing din on the city streets.

That's when the first of the bodies hit the ground, no more than fifteen feet from where you're standing. The woman lands face first on the pavement, a pool of blood forming slowly around her broken body. The crowd holds a collective breath, confused by what they're seeing for surely someone hasn't just jumped to their death right in front of their eyes?

Another body hits the ground, then another, and another. Someone's hand -- bloody stump still gushing blood -- rolls past the front of your feet like a tire over the street.

Screams fill the air now; screams from the living and confused on the ground, screams of the soon to be deceased on their way down to the pavement. Burn or jump. Someone's yelling something is wrong with the elevators, the ones you and your family managed to get on because your work stations were close to them. Screaming in the air, perhaps yours too, though you're not sure.

"TAVROS!" you yell again, a sound you're positive you make.

But your voice is lost over the screams of the living and dying and the policemen ushering you back away from the building and into the crowd. Where has your good friend gone, you worry. He's small and weak, never really as athletic as the other boys, that's why he worked here at the factory with the rest of you. He is a decent boy, well-mannered and polite, always smiling. Most of all, he's your best friend.

You call for him until you think your throat is scrubbed raw with his name.

Then you see him, and your voice is lost, locked in your throat while your heart hammers away at your bosom. He's standing on the ledge high above the ground, flames and black smoke spewing out of the windows at either of his sides. You're too horrified by the sight of him up there to even form tears in your eyes.

Tavros looks terrified, you can see it so clearly from where you stand helplessly on the ground. Without you even commanding your limbs to do so, you're trying to fight your way past the policemen and crowd, wanting to fight against the flames and broken elevator and the Lord Almighty himself to go to your friend and ease his fears. A burly policeman grabs you firmly and forces you back into the crowd, though he looks just as terrified as Tavros does and you almost feel bad for his unease -- there's a girl's body no more older than you, laying on her back less than eight feet away, eyes staring blankly up at the heavens.

Time after that seems to slow as you look up at your friend and he finds your eyes at the same time you find his. Noise fades into darkness as he smiles shakily at you, but he's so scared, and you can't reach him.

He jumps before you can even get his name past your lips.

Time continues to slow, almost to stopping, and you wish so desperately it would stop and spare you from what you're about to witness. He looks like he's flying, but Tavros looks broken long before his body actually lands atop of two young women dead already on the ground. Tavros' body bounces off of theirs, landing audibly a foot or two away.

As time rushes back to you all at once, the policeman cannot hold you any longer as you somehow find the strength of five men and shove past him, running to your fallen friend before anyone can stop you. His hair has been singed away on either side of his head and his face his filthy with blood and soot; his skin cold despite the overwhelming heat all around you. Tenderly, you wipe his cheeks with the bottom of your skirt. He shivers and reaches a hand slowly up to cradle one of yours.

"We're a team," you whisper to him, "you must survive."

"Y-yes, I'll, uh, t-try."

Tavros falls silent as a fireman finally captures you and ushers you back into the crowd, tears stinging your eyes.


	6. Unrequited!Jane♥Roxy - Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 4: FST (fanmixes)
> 
>  _'I Don't Believe You' by The Magnetic Fields_  
>  'If You Should Try To Kiss Her' by Dressy Bessy  
> 'MAPS' by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

She’s smiles at you, oblivious to what you’re trying to get across to her; to how you feel.

“Do you think Jake notices me in ‘that’ manner?” Janey asks you, all buck teeth and blushing. You know she’s not ignoring your hints on purpose – she just can be oblivious as Jake can be.

“How can he not? You’re supreme cutie numero uno all up in here,” you say, forcing a grin.

“Oh no, I’m not cute or any facet of pretty!”

Jane shakes her head, frowning slightly. It boggles your mind how she doesn’t see how cute or adorable she is. She never seems to believe you when you say she is cute, no matter how sincerely you mean it.

“I think you’re very pretty,” you say, biting your lip.

“Oh nonsense, Rolal. I appreciate your attempt at try—“

“Trying? No no no Janey, I’m 100% real here. You’re cute and pretty and I for one would be happy to… to…”

You trail off, realizing you’re going to push things too hard if you keep talking. The last thing you want is to scare Janey away. She’s looking at you, expectedly and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth; words lumping up in your throat.

Reaching for your martini, you look away from the computer screen. Last night you had a dream where you kissed Janey and maybe that is what is making this all awkward and shit today for you. Whenever Janey starts talking about Jake, as per usual, it makes you feel jittery on the inside. Feels like you want to cry and it’s stupid because she clearly has a better chance with Jake than someone who hasn’t even been born yet in her time.

The liquor is cool against your lips, burning your throat in that enjoyable way you like, but it tastes bittersweet today. Maybe you should give it up for a while, you think – but only if you can find something else to stave off the loneliness.

“Jake would be real lucky to have a girl like you is all I’m trying to say,” you finally say to Janey.

She fidgets slightly, opening her mouth to say something and a part of you hopes for something that’s impossible. A secret confession of another person she has an interest in, someone that isn’t Jake or Dirk. Janey closes her mouth and smiles softly.

“Thank you, Roxy.”

You need a refill on your martini.


	7. Bro♦Dirk - Raise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 4: FST (fanmixes)
> 
>  _Libera Me From Hell - Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann_  
>  Cruel Angel Thesis - Neon Genesis Evangelion  
> Fly Away - Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt

For as long as you can remember it's always been just you, Dave, and Bro. You know there was a time when there were more people in the Strider family - a mother figure and a father figure, but there are no faces to be remembered; pictures burned to ashes along with the rest of a life you don't remember.

Bro was so much older than Dave and yourself, a good fifteen years older than you and seventeen years older than Dave. When the fire choked the house, Bro tucked you tightly to his chest with Dave, a blanket pulled over the two of you to keep the flames from burning yous as Bro jumped out of a window to safety.

He doesn't talk about the burns on his back from that day, nor does he talk about the college he couldn't go to because he suddenly found himself with two little brothers that had no parents or a home. It's not until you're ten that you begin to realize the sacrifices he's made to raise you, and it's startling. You share his drive for achieving things you want and you know it has to kill him every time he has had to say no to a job that he would love but would cut into the time he spent with you and Dave.

He flicks you on the forehead and tells you to focus on yourself, you and your love of robotics will take you places he's never dreamt of going, he says. Which you know is a lie because there's an old banged up lunchbox tucked in his favorite crawlspace that has drawings he's done. A talent he's let go to waste, you think, because you've never seen him draw before yet all the papers have B.S. marked on the bottom right-hand corners.

There's a letter waiting for you in the mail when you're fifteen from a college you don't remember applying for. They say they've heard of your genius with robotics and with you already two grades ahead of your peers, they want you to enroll with them.

"Congrats, little man," Bro says when you show him the letter. "It was only a matter of time before they came banging down the door for your talent."

It doesn't feel right though.

"It should be you," you say.

An eyebrow raises over his shades.

"College, it should be you. It should've been you years ago. I've seen the drawings and the old acceptance letter wedged between your bedframe and wall. It's not fair to you, Bro."

He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. You can see how tired he is; how he always is but never lets on unless you find him passed out on the couch or nodding off on the kitchen table with an untouched cup of coffee between his hands.

"Dirk," he says, "it isn't about me right now. I had a moment a long time ago but then I had more important things to do and it's cool. Got to do something more filling with my life than go to art school."

He makes it clear that's the end of the discussion and takes Dave with him to get pizza and ice cream in celebration of the 'college boy'. There's a sick feeling in your gut though. Your family is a myriad of a million possibilities that never will be and even though there's promise in your life, you can't help but think of the promise in your big brother's life that never came to fruition.

A year later, you don't comment when Bro finds several acceptance letters to art schools in the mail, all for him.


	8. Bro♥Davesprite - Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 4: FST (fanmixes)
> 
> _Ellie Goulding - Your Song  
>  Evan Rachel Wood - Blackbird  
> Zedd - Clarity_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor Bro♥Dave.
> 
> i think hurt/comfort aside, this is one of the few sweet fills I made. =D Yay!

When you find the baby in the crater, you think, _’Shit.’_ Not because a baby just fell out of the sky riding a meteor like a cowboy at a rodeo—the irony that there’s a dead pony beside the kid makes the metaphor all the more relevant—but because you’re young and broke. You’re not the kind of the person that should be in charge of a child, ever.

Yet when your sweet shades meet little red eyes, you know you’re fucked.

There’s no such thing as love at first sight, right?

*

You’re young and broke and definitely more clueless about what it takes to raise a child than you let on, but you’re happy. And best of all, you don’t seem to be screwing up the kid too badly. You don’t think.

*

The last time you see him, he’s lying on the rooftop, blood on his chin and his ego a bit deflated – nothing Dave can’t handle. You taught him well; passed on everything you knew, more or less – the important stuff at least. He’s smart though, he’ll figure out the rest.

You walk away because you have to – bigger fish to fry and all. But every step makes you want to scream and cry and go back. Go back to Dave, hug him tightly and tell how much you love him.

But it’s best to just focus on your next step.

*

You’re not sure where you are but it’s night and stars are gleaming overhead. When you sit up, you can see the large air-conditioning unit from your rooftop but it feels out of place after everything else you know happened. That doesn’t stop you from getting to your feet and placing a hand against it to see if it’s real.

“It’s real.”

You glance over your shoulder and find Dave floating in an orange aura, wings sticking out of his back like some half-assed Frankenstein meets The Island of Dr Moreau attempt at creating a hybrid creature. 

“It’s impossible,” you tell the imitation Dave.

“It’s a dreambubble, impossible isn’t a thing here,” he says with a shrug.

“Expect the unexpected? That type of junk?”

“Nah. The unexpected is the expected. You could walk off the ledge right now and either fall to the street below or walk right on into another dreambubble. There’s a bunch of them here, some with other occupants.”

“I died.”

“Good thing you didn’t take a death blow to the head or you might not have known that.”

The little shit may be an imitation of Dave, but he was a good one.

“So what now?” you ask, sitting down with your back against the air-conditioning unit. “I just chill here for the rest of eternity as the ghost of a man who made too many mistakes with his life?”

Imitation Dave floats over to you and takes a seat beside you. It’s unnerving how familiar it feels despite his slight hovering.

“You did a few things right,” he says.

You don’t say anything because you’re not sure what to say, and you get the feeling imitation Dave has something more to say. He’s wrestling silently with his words the way your Dave always did. It’s pretty cute, you’ve always thought.

“Think you did pretty okay with raising me,” he finally says, not looking at you.

Something in your stomach clenches. You remember Dave lying on the rooftop, left there by you; beaten by you. It brought you no pleasure in hurting him but you had to prepare him for what was ahead. Looking over this feathery imitation of Dave, you think he went through worse than you could’ve ever dreamed of preparing him for, and he seems okay. 

Maybe you underestimated the kid a bit.

Or maybe it was because of what you did that helped.

“I love you,” you say, not so much to this Dave, but to the one you left behind. It’s hard to gauge whether or not they’re the same person, but this one reminds you so much of yours, only older somehow, and sadder.

Orange fingers touch your fingers feeling surprisingly solid and cool.

“I love you too.”

And then he floats off into the sky, his wings flapping at air that can’t really be there.

You take off after him, somehow, not willing to leave Dave alone again.


	9. Alpha!Dave♥Dirk - Where'd You Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 4: FST (fanmixes)
> 
> _I Want Love - Akira Yamaoka  
>  Where'd You Go - Fort Minor  
> Home - Daughter_

“See you soon, kid.”

You watch him disappear out the door and sigh when the door clicks shut behind him. You should be used to this by now, but you’re not. You just can’t get used to it no matter how many times you go through this same thing every couple of months.

*

When the phone rings, you trip over Lil Cal, an errant sneaker, and your own feet rushing to get to the phone in the kitchen. 

“Hello?”

“How’s it going, kid?”

Relief floods your chest at the sound of his voice. 

“It’s going.”

“Good to hear.”

“Are you coming home soon?”

“I still have some things to finish before I can head back. Should be there by Friday.”

“Promise?”

“Best I can, yeah.”

The phone clicks as he hangs up and you curl up on the floor with the phone still pressed against your ear. When the dial tone begins to beep at you, you pretend you can hear Dave leaving you a secret message.

*

“He hasn’t called?” Jake asks, watching you tinker with your latest robotics project.

You shake your head as you carefully fit wires together.

“It’s Sunday though.”

“I know,” you say, perhaps a little more sharply than you mean to. Sighing, you look over at Jake who’s looking a little uncertainly at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, mate.” He claps a hand on your shoulder and smiles. “Let us partake in the nonstop joys of movie watching, shall we? It’ll help distract you.”

You think back to the last time you watched a movie with Dave. How he let you curl up beside him, his arm draped over your back and shoulder. It felt so nice, but it’s been a long time since that night.

“Sure,” you tell Jake who literally jumps for joy. 

*

“You said you’d call Friday,” you say into the phone. “Three weeks ago.”

“I never specified an exact Friday. There’s a whole bunch of them in a year you know.”

There’s a tingle of anger in your throat that you swallow down because you want to hear his voice a little longer.

“I know.”

There’s silence on his end for a long moment.

“I’ll make it up. I’m on my way home in three days.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

You won’t admit how much you hope he’s telling you the truth, but something deep in your heart knows better. Knows that Dave is just trying to smooth over things with a shred of hope and maybe Dave even believes it himself.

That night you pack a bag, just in case.

*

Three days come and go without a word from Dave. Three more after that go by and another three after that. You’ve had enough of this. Enough with the waiting. Enough with the not knowing. Enough of not having Dave around like you want.

“It’s late,” Jake says, rubbing his eyes as he opens his door.

“I know, sorry about that.” You linger uncertainly on Jake’s welcome mat, shifting your bag over your shoulder and Lil Cal over your other. “Can I crash here for a bit?”

Jake smiles and steps aside. “You don’t even have to ask! Come in!”

A week later, your cell buzzes on the nightstand and you roll over to see who’s it from at this late hour. It’s a text from Dave.

**where are you**

You hesitate before writing back. Shutting off the phone, you roll over and go back to sleep.

Home.


	10. Alpha!Dave♠Dirk - It Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 4: FST (fanmixes)
> 
> _Hell Is For Children - Pat Benatar  
>  Luka - Suzanna Vega  
> Gothic Lolita - Emilie  
> Quarter to Ten - Anais Mitchell_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warning for non-explicit child abuse and character death (though not in the way you would think).
> 
> Minor Dirk♦Jane and minor Dirk♥Jake.

You don’t hear the front door open and close; don’t even know he’s home until you hear the pad of his feet on the carpet outside your door. Too late to hide, not that you don’t try. 

When he pulls you from beneath the bed, you curse yourself for not being more alert. It’s not completely your fault though, the hearing in your left ear still hasn’t returned since your last beating. This unfortunately has made you off-balance and slightly careless. 

He doesn’t say anything, rarely does – it’s just a thing. You close your eyes when he undoes his belt and flinch only twice in the ensuing beating.

*

“Are you okay?” Jane asks, dabbing the worst of the bleeding.

You shrug, wincing in regret immediately.

“You need to tell someone,” she says, reaching for the anti-bacteria lotion. “A policeman, a teacher, anyone.”

“If you didn’t see the bruises, would you believe that my bro was the kind of the person to do this kind of thing? Think about it Jane – he’s well-respected and liked, famous, and gifted with the ability to talk his way in and around ten DUIs without having to pay a dime. Who would believe me?”

She goes silent as she continues cleaning and disinfecting the wounds on your back and arms. You feel a little dumb when you speak again.

“Beside, he’s my bro and I don’t want to lose him.”

“Dirk, he hurts you.”

“If not him, someone else will. What’s the difference?”

You flinch slightly when Jane wraps her arms around you in a hug.

*

Your wrist is shaky, the bandaging around it doing only a minor job in helping you keep it steady. Maybe you should splint it later, when you’re able to get back up from the floor. And your head stops spinning so much.

A short distance away is spilled nacho cheese from a jar -- said jar lying shattered opposite of you. Your shaky wrist made you drop it and your Bro just happened to be in the kitchen when it happened. Maybe it was him that made you nervous, made you twitch when you didn’t mean to. Either way, your cheek is swelling and your eyes have teared up behind your shades. 

“You made a mess of blood on the cabinet,” Dave says, rinsing his hands in the sink. “Clean that shit before it stains.”

You obediently get up, sniffling but trying not to let the tears fall; crying only makes it worse.

*

You’re not thinking straight, barely even understand what it is you’ve just done or why. Jake sits blushing beside you, licking his lips where you kissed him. It made you feel kind of nice but only for a fraction of a second and now you feel nothing, like you always do.

*

Dave’s sick, feverish. You mop his forehead with a towel and feed him soup. He thanks you and smiles lightly when you give him medicine. 

When he falls asleep, you curl up beside him, ignoring the ache in your ribs and the fracture in your hand where you told the doctors you walked into a door. You don’t think about your healing lip or the bruises on your back. You don’t think about anything.

You just wait until his chest stops rising in slumber and his skin goes cold in death.


	11. Terezi♠Vriska - The Trouble With Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Round 5 - Games
> 
> Troll Monopoly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bonus round lets the players pick their own prompts so I went to Scourgecest land with a game that frustrates me, lalala. =D

Only the nutritionblock light is on, illuminating the wreckage of smashed plates and paper money strewn about the room. Vriska only has to step back out of the nutritionblock entranceway, allowing the light to color the floorboards of the living room, to see the rest of the mess. Smashed glass from a glass vase Kanaya had given her as a hive-warming some two years ago gleams dully beside tiny red and green hives in the fluorescent nutritionblock light. Truly, she’s not sad to see it gone and at least she can truthfully tell her moirail that it wasn’t her who broke it.

No, that particular honor goes to the chick with the bruised lip who’s lying half naked on the couch.

Terezi showed up at Vriska’s doorstep barely an hour before and it had been tense from the moment the door had been opened. Vriska had tried not to notice the board game in her hands but that was nearly impossible when it was being shoved in her face. Honestly, Vriska had no idea what the game was but she made it seem she had played Troll Monopoly a million times before. 

Needless to say, things got pretty shouty, pretty fast. And then there was a shitload of throwing things around, especially those goddamn little green hives which fucking hurt when someone was purposely flicking them at your head.

“I’m not cleaning this mess up by myself,” Vriska says, kicking one of the other girl’s sneakers out of her way. A small metallic grub game piece went tumbling out of the sneaker.

“I see no mess,” Terezi grins.

“That joke is so old. Yeah, I get it, you’re fucking blind. Whoop-dee-do, let’s move the show on and get your ass up.”

“You weren’t so worried about the mess a half hour ago.”

Vriska grimaces. “I was kind of too busy fucking the shit out of you to really care.”

“Is that what you call all that shitty thrashing around?”

This was one of the reasons they couldn’t be left alone for more than ten minutes at a time, especially if a game was involved. Vriska could feel anger clawing at her throat, but she held it back. Someone had to be the adult in this situation. Although mostly, she had no intentions of cleaning up the mess by herself.

“Are you going to help me or not?” 

Terezi sighs and gets up, not bothering to pull her pants or panties back on. It makes it difficult to straighten up the nutritionblock when Terezi decides to make it a point to bend over, bare rear pointed toward the nutritionblock entranceway, and pluck up all the red and green hives before sweeping up the glass. Vriska does a shitty job at pretending she’s not completely staring.

When things are halfway decent, Vriska slams two cans of sugary carbonated drinks onto the nutritionblock table and sneers at Terezi.

“You ready to have your ass handed to you?” she asks.

“Only if you don’t plan to cheat.”

“I don’t cheat, you’re just a sore loser.”

“The law never cheats.”

Vriska rolls her eyes. “Bullshit. And I’m banker.”

“As if you could be trusted with money?”

“Fuck you very much, I’m excellent with money.”

“Excellent with stealing it, perhaps.”

As Vriska finally loses her cool, slapping the board off the table and launching herself at Terezi’s grinning self, she’s vaguely pleased that they managed to get a little further this time with playing Troll Monopoly. Maybe next time they’ll even roll the dice and move a space.


End file.
